


Golden Fawn

by shadowshrike



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Age Regression/De-Aging, Character Study, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, No Plot/Plotless, Not Canon Compliant, Self-Indulgent, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-13
Updated: 2020-06-13
Packaged: 2021-03-03 22:02:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24702754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shadowshrike/pseuds/shadowshrike
Summary: A mysterious series of events has turned Duke Riegan back into his younger self. Stuck in Fhirdiad, the Blue Lions care for him as another frightened child in their midst rather than the infamous Master Tactician.
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd & Claude von Riegan, Mercedes von Martritz & Claude von Riegan, Sylvain Jose Gautier & Claude von Riegan
Comments: 9
Kudos: 126





	1. Khalid (Dimitri)

**Author's Note:**

> For those who follow me on Twitter, you may recognize the first three chapters as shorts I originally posted there. Well, I finally decided to turn it into a series.
> 
> Each chapter will be a standalone vignette as I get inspiration, primarily focused around the Blue Lions and Claude. There is no overarching plot. It's just a bunch of self-indulgent character studies (i.e. a lot of Dimitri and Sylvain) where the traumatized lions get to bond with another traumatized kid they care about, assuming some VW/AM hybrid path. I do also have a few de-aged Dimitri drabbles up my sleeve as well, so this may become a series that I write when I need a pick me up.
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

"Claude? Will you come with me?" Dimitri asked, extending a hand.

The frowning mouth that had always worn a smile at the academy turned up as the child in front of him began to laugh. It wasn't warm and free like the laughter that rang in Dimitri's memories. The sound cut with a child’s cruel mockery. "What did you call me?"

"Claude?" Dimitri repeated more slowly.

The boy dissolved into another laughing fit. "You say it so weird. Are all Fodlans as funny as you?"

"I wasn't attempting to be funny," Dimitri grumbled, exasperated. He should have known a younger version of Claude would have been just as insufferable as the adult. "Please. You need to come inside. It's dangerous out here."

"It's dangerous  _ in there _ ," Claude retaliated.

Dimitri’s irritation faded. Worry took its place, crushing a heart that trusted Claude believed what he was saying. He'd heard those words once before. That time, it had been from a girl in the slums who was an orphan in all but technicality, cowering away from her parents' home.

"Did something happen when you were in there?" Dimitri asked, dropping his tone as he did around skittish mares in the stables. "I swear to keep you away from whoever frightened you, but you must come in with me. It will be dark soon. You'll get hurt out here."

"I can take care of myself."

Verdant eyes danced across the plains that backed up to a distant forest, a scheme brewing in that tiny head of his. No doubt planning his harrowing escape. Dimitri stood no chance against a master tactician’s mind one-on-one, something that Claude liked to prove every time they crossed paths.

Luckily, this Claude was not a master of anything just yet.

He made it three steps towards the tree, but Dimitri was ready for the boy to jerk backward and dive through his legs when the king gave chase. Dimitri plucked him by the scruff, ignoring the yowling and...was Claude trying to bite him?

"Please, I promise I won't hurt y--ou," Dimitri's voice strained as the boy lashed out with a foot. "But I need you to calm down."

Claude went limp in his grip like a cat carried by its mother. Dimitri allowed Claude's feet to touch the ground, keeping his hand tight on the boy's collar. Surely, the moment he let go, this whole compliant act would disappear, and Dimitri would spend his night chasing Claude through the woods instead of making sure the child was fed and sheltered from predators looking for an easy meal.

"Thank you. I know it must be terrifying to find yourself surrounded by so many novel things, and I truly regret having to hold you here."

Claude scoffed, digging a toe into the dirt and refusing to meet his eye. "If you regretted it, you'd let go."

"It is not always so simple. I regret causing you distress, but were I to let you go, I'd regret leaving you alone in a dangerous situation even more."

"I'm  _ always  _ in a dangerous situation.”

Dimitri's stomach curled unpleasantly at the resignation bleeding through a young facade not yet perfected to contain Claude’s emotions. He took a knee, lowering himself to look up at the boy. "Is that why you're set on running away? Because you're afraid someone will hurt you?"

"What do you care?" Claude hissed. "Leave me alone."

"I care because I know how frightening it is to feel alone in a big city like Fhirdiad. I've even tried to run away before, like you did," the king admitted. "I won't pretend to know exactly what you're feeling, or promise that you'll never be hurt again, but I can make sure you have a room all to yourself and no one bothers you tonight."

The offer was a mere whisper, but Claude perked under his hand. "I can...have my own room?"

"If you wish it," Dimitri said, though he expected some of his staff to fight him on allowing a small child, a small child version of Claude von Riegan no less, have an unsupervised space. But this was also the closest he'd come to earning the boy's trust. He wasn't going to risk it by breaking promises. "You can eat there if you'd like, too. The dining hall is rather large and intimidating, isn't it?"

Dimitri expected a meek nod, but the child snorted at him. "The ones at home are bigger."

The feast halls in Derdriu were most assuredly not bigger, Dimitri knew that from his last visit, but he could let a scared child have whatever semblance of superiority he needed to put him at ease.

"How does that sound to you?" Dimitri's fingers relaxed, almost letting go. "Will you come back with me? If anyone tries to bother you in your room, I'll make sure they're sent away."

That tiny brow furrowed. "Why?"

"Why would I have them sent away?" Dimitri asked, bewildered.

"Why are you doing this for me? What do you want?"

Ah, so that was the problem. Well, Dimitri might not have been a brilliant tactician, but he did know a thing or two about bribing small children into doing what he needed them to by making them feel smart.

"You caught me. There is one thing I want from you in return." Balled fists readied at Claude's sides. "I want you to teach me how to say your name properly."

Three vacant blinks. "Huh?"

"You laughed earlier because I pronounced your name incorrectly. I'd like to learn to say it the way you do," Dimitri clarified. He hoped it would be enough for the young boy to feel like this was an exchange rather than a charity. Claude had issues with debts as an adult, and Dimitri was starting to think that wasn't a trait he picked up recently.

Small lips pursed as Claude considered the offer, face screwed up in concentration like he was signing a worldwide peace treaty rather than agreeing to go inside for the night. Finally, he muttered, "Khalid. That's how you say it."

"Kla..."

"Khalid," the boy said with more force.

"Ka-leed," Dimitri repeated. Had they all really been pronouncing Claude's name wrong for the past five years?

He was rewarded with a giggle, less unkind than before. "Your accent is so strange. I guess it'll take a while to teach you you to say it right."

A loud gurgle erupted from the boy's stomach. At least Claude's love of food was still predictable.

"After dinner?" Dimitri suggested, smiling faintly.

For the first time since this predicament started, the child's eyes shone with eagerness. "Please?"

"Of course, Clau...Khalid." Dimitri relaxed his hold, giving the boy's hair a gentle ruffle. "You'll never go hungry here. I'll make sure you stay safe and fed."

The skepticism in those too-sharp green eyes stung, but he followed at Dimitri's heels rather than running for the treeline again, and that was enough for tonight.


	2. Guardian (Sylvain)

In most ways, Khalid wasn't much different than the Claude they knew. Smaller, sure. But he still devoured books as ravenously as his dinner, and his eyes glowed with insatiable curiosity whenever he encountered something new. It was how often those new things came that was unusual. Things he should have known from growing up in the Alliance, like the Derdriu-Style pheasant Dimitri requested for the boy's first night to give him a taste of home, were met with a blank stare and suspicious poke until the aroma was too much to resist for his rumbling stomach.

There was only one conclusion to draw, in Sylvain's opinion. Claude wasn't born in Fodlan.

Not that he cared. Sylvain was more concerned about other things. The way Khalid kept his back to the wall, refused to eat first, and booby-trapped his room with books on the floor to make it impossible to come close without waking him. The way he watched the faces of the people around him too closely, weighing every word they spoke, waiting for a fatal snap if he ventured too close. The way he smiled too much when he asked for things and never went anywhere without a weapon.

It was how Sylvain had acted around Miklan for half his life. Always one eye open lest both get gouged out. And Khalid...he kept both eyes on everyone.

"You want me to try that for you?" Sylvain offered as they settled for lunch, reaching across the table with his fork.

Any normal kid would have snapped his plate away. Ingrid would have stabbed his fingers for trying. Khalid didn't move, letting Sylvain toss a piece of too-gamey, underseasoned boar in his mouth. Oh, how he wished Dedue or Ashe was in the kitchens today - Faerghus food really was terrible.

"How is it?" the child asked. He hadn't perfected the easy smile Claude hid behind yet, his teeth rubbing anxiously at the corner of his lip.

Sylvain grinned to show him how it was done. "Not poisoned. That's what you're worried about, right?"

There was the fear, naked and heartbreaking in emerald eyes. Sylvain wasn't usually one to pry, but saving a kid from whoever made him act like this was important enough that even a good-for-nothing like him couldn't turn a blind eye. Not that he had any idea how that ‘saving’ would work, considering Claude had already grown up once, surviving all the hells life had to throw at him.

_ Maybe it’s too much to hope there’s any salvation for either of us _ .

"That... that's a silly thing to say," Khalid grumbled. He stabbed at the food, filling his mouth with a piece and chewing it defiantly. "It's rude to look for poison when you're a guest."

Now there was an interesting load of horse manure someone had fed him. 

Sylvain shrugged, leaning back in his seat. "I'm not sure how much rudeness matters when it's a matter of life or death. It might be true that most poisonings happen at home, but a guy's gotta be prepared for anything. I've gotten more than my fair share of poisonings while on the road," he lied. It had only been the once by a very irate merchant who held a grudge about getting dumped after a single night of fun. He threw his hands over his head with a chuckle, "Actually, come to think of it, I got poisoned plenty at home, too."

The boy's chewing stopped.

_ Check _ .

"What, you don't think anyone would ever try to hurt a handsome guy like me?" Sylvain chirped, capping the obnoxious question with a wink.

Khalid gnashed at his food like an angry wyvern. A good tactic Sylvain had used many times when he sensed a trap. Keep the mouth full to delay an answer and give yourself time to think of a safe response. 

By the time he swallowed, Khalid had decided that going for the throat was the safest course of action. Make Sylvain angry, keep him from looking at what he was trying to hide.

"Of course people would try to hurt you,” he said. “You're kind of a jerk. I heard you with that girl in the hall this morning."

Oh right. Felicity. Felicia? Something that began with 'F'. Sylvain hadn't thought the little enigma had been awake yet when he'd had that argument about the meaning of fidelity outside the kid's door.

Ah, Faith, that was her name. As in faithful. Ironic, but he'd be more surprised if his life wasn't.

"Don't be too judgmental, little deer. That isn't the sort of thing a kid would understand," Sylvain chided, arms crossed.

Khalid laughed in his face. "I understand you getting slapped."

"Touché."

Silence fell over the table.

Sylvain waited for it to eat at the kid's restraint while they ate. Claude had never been able to let secrets lie between them nor wait patiently for answers to his questions. Their time together had been an intricate dance of sidesteps and feints. They jabbed at each other's hairline cracks, wondering who would shatter first, and shared superficial laughter that softened the blow of living through a war. Claude was a man who didn’t let a single sentence slip by without analyzing it for new information. Sylvain doubted that nosiness was any less dull in Khalid.

It only took two minutes of quiet for the boy to give in.

"You said you got poisoned at home once before," Khalid stated.

Not a question, but Sylvain could forgive it. He’d led the kid here, after all, long ago deciding to sacrifice an important piece from his board to capture one of Claude's that had til now remained elusive.

"More than once. My brother was kind of an a..." Sylvain caught himself before the expletive spilled out. "He was a terrible guy. Tried to kill me a bunch of times. It made me almost as good at watching my back as you are."

He hadn't meant it as a compliment, but Khalid’s eyes crinkled with his smile. "You think I'm doing a good job?”

“Uh...I’m sure you are, but at what now?”

“Watching out for myself,” the kid explained. He poked a square of meat across his plate. “Father says I have to. That’s why he doesn’t do anything about it when the others do stuff. It’s to help me practice. He says that otherwise, they’ll never take me seriously."

"Fathers don't always understand things as well as they think they do," Sylvain muttered. "And my brother? He never stopped no matter how much I took his beatings or tried to fight back. He hated me ‘til the second he died."

Way too far. There was terror in the child's eyes again, and the beginnings of despair drowning the light that had sparked when he thought he was being praised. 

_ Shit, Sylvain, what were you thinking? That’s not sacrificing a piece, it’s marching your entire side into a massacre. Just throw the whole damn board on the floor next time _ .

Sylvain plastered on a disarming smile, hoping it might mitigate some of the damage done. Trust Claude to get more information out of him as a kid than an adult, even though Khalid didn’t even know him.

"Hey, hey, don’t give me that sour look! Just because things turned out bad for me doesn't mean it's hopeless for you!" Judging by the flat stare the kid was giving him, he was doing a terrible job of saving this. Sylvain ran a hand through his hair. "What I meant to say is...I get it if you feel like you have to be vigilant. I still feel that way sometimes even though my brother is gone and I’m all grown up. So do what you need to if it helps you be safe. But I hope you know you can rely on other people, too. Trying to take care of everything on your own leads to bad things. Take it from a guy who has the scars to prove it."

Khalid stared at him, pressed his lips together, and stated, “I can’t rely on anyone.”

“Is that so?” Sylvain hummed. “Why not?”

“Because people always look out for themselves first. They don’t care about helping me. Not really,” the child groused.

Now, that he could work with.

Sylvain threw his arms wide, wearing a grin so infectious that Khalid started smiling back without meaning to. “Oh, is that all? Then you’re in luck, my small friend! You see, you happen to be in the presence of a bonafide Faerghus knight. And do you know what our specialty is?” A braid bounced against the boy’s cheek as he shook his head. “It’s helping other people no matter what, even if we have to get hurt doing it. It’s part of our oaths and everything.”

Khalid cocked his head. “Why?”

“Why is it one of our oaths? You’d have to ask the guy who founded the whole thing to know for sure, but I’m pretty sure he’s been six feet under for a while,” Sylvain chuckled. He tossed another wink to the kid. “But as far as why I do it, well, it’s because I think helping people is the right thing to do. If I have to put myself at risk to do it, at least I know they’ll be okay.”

“That’s dumb,” the boy huffed.

It was cute how he thought a tiny insult like that might hurt Sylvain’s feelings. “I  _ am  _ pretty dumb sometimes, aren’t I?”

“Yeah,” Khalid agreed. 

He chewed at his lip as his fork tapped on an empty plate, contemplating this new information in stubborn silence. It was about all Sylvain could hope for in a single day. But when Sylvain looked away to take a drink and leave the kid to it, he heard a whisper under the boy’s breath. 

“But...maybe that’s not so bad.”


	3. Friendship (Mercedes)

Khalid was a precocious child. He thirsted for knowledge like soldiers thirsted for good ale after a bloody battle, wounded but high on the rush of survival. And like those soldiers, it often led him to trouble.

The first day, it had been knocking an entire bag of flour on his head while climbing out the kitchen window to escape the watchful eye of Dedue. The second, it was tailing Felix to get a better look at his weapons. Even with the swordsman’s orders to keep his distance Khalid was undeterred, weathering the scathing dismissals with a smile that left Felix so unnerved he’d retired early that night after dumping Khalid in his room. Since then he’d tried to show Ashe up at the archery range, nearly caused an explosion in Annette’s room from a poorly implemented spell, and loudly proclaimed to Ingrid that pegasi were inferior to wyverns and warhorses after challenging her to a riding contest.

The only adults he seemed to listen to at all were Dimitri and Sylvain, but council chambers were no place for a young boy, especially not one who looked suspiciously like their ‘ill’ visiting Duke. That didn’t deter Khalid, who tried to sneak in beneath the sweep of Dimitri’s cloak more than once.

Something had to give. Their king and the other nobles had a country to govern, and if Claude was ever coming back, Annette needed to be free of distractions to study his condition. They did what they always had during their desperate days at the Academy, begging Mercedes to make things right. She had a talent for difficult children, after all, and often visited the local orphanages with bread and books. Introducing Khalid would be no trouble.

Or so Mercedes had thought, but her young charge for the day wasn’t taking well to having company his age. Gone were the grins and giggles of terrorizing the palace, replaced by a gloomy scowl. He hovered near Mercedes’ skirt with crossed arms to make sure she knew he was keeping his distance by choice rather than because he was afraid.

_ As stubborn as Emile _ , Mercedes thought with a rueful smile.

"I don’t want to talk with them. They’re just kids," Khalid huffed. “I’m not like them.”

He shot a spiteful glare at the other children strewn about the rubble-turned playground. The king and his advisors had told him that he had to come here today, no matter how much Khalid protested that he could take care of himself. A silent room and a pile of books was better companionship than a ruin full of kids.

His current caretaker hadn’t agreed, gently reminding him that as an adult he loved spending time with others. As for Khalid, he liked ‘Claude’ less with every story he heard.

Mercedes tapped a thoughtful finger against her lips. "Hm...I don't know that you're so different. I think you have a lot in common with them.”

“Like what?” 

Careful not to touch his shoulder, the holy woman crouched at his side, pointing out some of the orphans she thought would get along best with him. All of them were older than Khalid, the only choice for a child who prided himself on his independence and maturity to the point of petulance. 

“Dylan, the one in the red, likes archery and practices daily,” her finger shifted from the boy walking along a stone ledge with arms outstretched to a quiet girl tucked into her book like it could whisk her away from the unassuming wreckage of their home, “and Sami over there is always reading just like you do. Oh! And Liam? The boy with that baby wyvern in his arms?” The minuscule beast wiggled out of his embrace while she spoke, now swinging like a bat to free itself of the hand still grasping its tail. Mercedes twittered gleefully, “I guess I should say under his arm. He's been raising her so he can soar in the sky just like his father used to. She's his first hatchling."

Khalid frowned, fingers twitching at his sides. "He's holding her all wrong."

"Is he?" Mercedes’ hands clapped together cheerfully. "Then maybe you can help him learn to take care of her! It's been hard to find him a master to apprentice under with so few wyverns in Fhirdiad. I'm sure he'd love to meet another aspiring wyvern rider."

"I'm not aspiring. I've ridden plenty," Khalid snapped. He worried at his lip, rubbing the heel of his boot into the dirt. "I’m going to be the best one day. Way better than you or him."

Mercedes nodded along, unbothered by his attitude. She’d heard far worse from scared children who’d lost their families to war or famine. "I'm sure you are. Truthfully, I've never spent much time with wyverns, so I don’t know much about them. Why don't you talk to Liam and once I finish checking in on the other kids, you can teach us both?"

The boy stared her down. His slitted emerald eyes glinted like the young wyvern’s in Liam's arms. He tilted his head, hawkish, as if deciding whether he should have faith in the human offering an open palm of food to not strike him once it was gone. 

Mercedes didn't know much about wyverns, but she did know a thing or two about little boys. She prayed silently that the Goddess would let her show this one that there was as much kindness in this world as the cruelty he had experienced.

Khalid nodded, slowly. "Okay. If you really want to learn, I can teach you."

That won him a smile so warm that he smiled back for the first time today, completely unaware. "How wonderful! I would love that!" Mercedes stood, brushing the dirt and dust from her skirt, then waving him forward. "You can run along and say hello now if you’d like. I trust a capable young man like you will do fine on your own. I'll be right with you as soon as I finish my delivery."

Taking one step forward, Khalid glanced back towards her, a question he couldn’t voice shining in those shy green eyes.

“I promise I’ll be right there,” Mercedes answered him.

And if the small boy leaned against her when she returned, already in deep debate with Liam about whether it was cruel to keep a wyvern in Faerghus through the winter, that would remain their little secret. As would how he stood in line with the other orphans for a hug goodbye when it was time to head home. 


	4. Assassin (Sylvain & Dimitri)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some Dimivain implications if you squint at the end of this one.

Sylvain wasn’t a man with many firsts left when it came to late-night adventures. He’d lifted every skirt, stalked every shadowed corridor, and eclipsed every tavern doorway. He’d tried to smother the darkness inside him with countless vices, the same as his brother had tried to smother the darkness that  _ was  _ him, grinning like Sylvain’s existence was part of some divine comedy.

No, Sylvain did not have many firsts left. But this - dragging a small child through the halls of Fhirdiad while the palace guard scrambled toward where the boy had been staying - was one of them.

“I’m fine! Sylvain, let me go!” Khalid whined, pulling uselessly against the knight’s grip.

Sylvain grimaced. He’d made that same plea in a distant past. He remembered the burn of his mother’s hand on his arm, dragging him away from his room in the dead of night while his father had a ‘discussion’ with Miklan. He remembered the fear of what would come next. Miklan’s punishments were always harsher when someone came to Sylvain’s defense.

Sylvain was not a pious man, but he prayed to whatever deity might listen that no one had punished this child for seeking help.

Slowing to a more comfortable pace, Sylvain twisted his grimace into a smile. “Sorry, little deer, I can’t do that just yet. I know  _ you’re _ tough enough to take on some assassins, but not everyone here is as good with a dagger as you.” Sylvain glanced at the hastily wiped blade gleaming in the boy’s hand. Khalid hadn’t let him take it. “The guards are going to make sure they’re gone, so everyone can sleep safely.”

“I’m sure they’re gone. I stabbed one in the hand, and he shouted. Assassins don’t come back for at least a week when they make that much noise.” 

A statement as unnerving as it was authoritative. Sylvain’s stomach churned, and he’d fought in the front lines of a war with a smile.

“You’re probably right,” Sylvain agreed. He nudged them towards the throne room. “But don’t you think it’s worth checking on the king to make sure?”

Khalid scuffled his feet to slow them down. “I  _ guess _ . But I don’t think King Dimitri is afraid of assassins.”

That was true, in more ways than this young boy understood, but Sylvain couldn’t dwell on it. He needed to get Khalid somewhere safe. Dimitri’s hopeless whispers about himself and his future could rot at the bottom of the same pit Sylvain had overstuffed with echoes of Miklan.

When they reached the throne room, a feat that Sylvain feared would take the same rope he used to lead stubborn horses from the stables with how much his little companion complained, they found Dimitri pacing irritably in front of a stalwart Dedue. Someone had already cleared the area. If Sylvain had to guess, Dimitri must have ordered everyone to evacuate in case the assassins in the palace were after him, and Dedue had volunteered to stay behind with Dimitri while Felix, Ingrid, and Ashe ran off to handle the threat personally.

“Your Majesty,” was all the greeting Sylvain could get out before Dimitri crossed the room in four long strides and started to ramble.

“Are you both unharmed? Did you see the assailants? It cannot be a coincidence, having them set upon us at such a vulnerable hour. Perhaps they are a resurgence of the Empire, hoping to destabilize our relationship with the Alliance. I should be out there, helping them instead of...”

Sylvain clapped his king on the shoulder. “Whoa, there! Don’t worry so much, your majesty. We’re okay, and your men are on it. Trust them. They’ll bring you the answers you need.”

They’d had this discussion about delegation often these past few months. Dimitri wanted to fix all the ills in Faerghus with his own two hands, and Sylvain reminded him that was patently ridiculous, especially taking into account the recent war, his father’s campaign against Sreng, reparations owed to Duscur, and the unrest that had plagued Faerghus for generations. A king needed to trust his council to do their jobs. Thankfully, with assassins running loose, Dimitri wasn’t in the mood for another fight. 

“I suppose you’re right,” the king sighed. “Then a bodyguard for Khalid will have to serve as enough protection for tonight.”

The ever-independent child, sensing his sanctuary was about to be invaded by strangers, balled his fists. “I don’t need a bodyguard! I’ll be fine on my own. I drove them off without any help. Sylvain can tell you - he only came in after they were gone!”

“It’s true. This little guy was in an empty room by the time I got there,” the knight chimed in.

Dimitri wasn’t swayed. His voice dipped into the exasperated register reserved for Sylvain’s womanizing and Claude’s schemes. “Clau--Khalid, I know you don’t want one, but it’s important that you’re safe. These men who targeted you may try again. Please. It will only be for one night.”

“I said I can do it myself!”

“Hold on, let’s just take a deep breath, okay?” Sylvain stepped between the king and the boy yelling at him. It was like Felix shouting at Rodrigue when he was a surly teenager all over again. At least the volume of their fights had decreased with age. “I think I’ve got an idea that will work for everyone. Khalid, how would you like to be one of King Dimitri’s bodyguards for the evening?” 

The king frowned. “Sylvain…”

“What? With assassins running around, we can’t leave our king unprotected.” Even if said assassins were probably hired by the same criminals who turned Claude into this child version of himself to make for an easy target. “You need a break, and this guy already proved he can take the assassins on his own. So why don’t Khalid and I come to your room and keep you safe tonight? That way we don’t have to tie up Dedue any longer.”

Sylvain’s gaze dropped sharply to Khalid’s head, hoping Dimitri would pick up on the cue. If the boy wouldn’t let them protect him in his room, then Sylvain would trick him into letting them watch over him under the guise of protecting the king instead. Besides, standing next to Dimitri was inarguably the safest place in all of Fhirdiad.

“Your majesty, I believe it is wise to put yourself in their care tonight. I will secure the palace,” Dedue interjected. His expression stayed blank, but that was tacit approval if Sylvain had ever heard it.

Dimitri nodded slightly, enough to tell Sylvain he’d understood, too. He dropped to a knee and sized up Khalid. “So you wish to be my bodyguard in case the assassins come back? Are you sure you’re up to the challenge? Protecting a king is not for the faint of heart.”

“I...” The kid licked his lips. The blade in his hand quivered. Then, he smiled. “Yeah. Yes. I’m not afraid of them.”

“Very well then, it appears I have no choice. I will retire to my quarters with you as my personal bodyguard.” Rising to his full height, Dimitri nodded to the sentinel behind him. “Dedue. You know what to do. Keep my subjects safe.”

“Yes, your majesty.”

“Sylvain, Khalid. With me.”

The palace was still in an uproar on their way to the king’s quarters, but the atmosphere had mellowed compared to their trip to the throne room. Maybe it was Dimitri’s sturdy, reliable presence. Maybe it was because Khalid walked proudly alongside them instead of being led around the castle grounds like an unruly schoolchild on a leash. Either way, Sylvain felt his chest loosen for the first time since he found Claude’s younger self with a bloodied dagger in hand and a killer instinct glinting in the too-hard eyes of a child.

His breaths came easier as they prepared for bed. Sylvain had expected Khalid to take up his post in a chair, staking his fierce independence. But once Sylvain sprawled out next to his king on top of the covers, Claude wedged himself between the two men, dagger still plastered flat against his chest.

“It’s to protect King Dimitri,” he insisted when Sylvain tried to pluck it from his fingers. “I’m not scared. I just, um…need a weapon to make sure he doesn’t get hurt.”

Neither commented on how his knuckles blanched every time he glanced at the window.

“Well, if you’ve got that covered, then I guess it’s up to me to protect the king’s beauty sleep,” Sylvain said. He grinned over the boy’s head, confident that having a child as a physical barrier between them would spare him Dimitri’s lectures. It didn’t stop the scathing, one-eyed glare, though.

Khalid rolled onto his side to study Dimitri while the king scowled at his knight. “Yeah, I think you definitely need to help him. It looks like he’s been missing a lot of it.”

Sylvain slammed a fist against his teeth to hold in his laughter.

“Well, if you would like me to sleep, a bedtime story often does the trick,” Dimitri said to the child, jamming his toe into Sylvain’s shin. The knight hissed. Dimitri carried on like he didn’t hear it, “Do you know any good stories, Khalid?”

“Not really.”

The king’s head cocked. “None at all? Didn’t your parents didn’t read you any?”

“No. They had me read my own, and you can’t tell bedtime stories to yourself.” He dipped his chin to roll against the dagger’s hilt. “...I miss them.”

“It’s okay to miss them. I miss my parents, too,” Dimitri murmured. He smoothed back the braid that had fallen over the boy’s cheek.

Something cruel and envious seized Sylvain’s heart at the sight. He wasn’t sure if it was because he wished he could love someone enough to miss them as much as they did, or if he simply wished he could offer the same heartfelt comfort that came naturally to Dimitri. Sylvain strangled the feeling with another smile. “Then it’s lucky for you both that I have plenty of stories. I think I know just the one. It was one of King Dimitri’s favorites when he was your age, Khalid.”

“You knew him as a kid?” the boy wondered.

“Mmhm. And since I was older, I had to take care of him.” When Glenn wasn’t around, anyway. “This story works every time. Sends him right to sleep. Do you want to hear it?”

Curiosity won over the boy’s promise to protect the king. He nodded his head, bumping it against the pommel of his blade.

Sylvain learned three things that night:

First, that Faerghus bedtime stories did a good job of putting Almyran kids to sleep, too.

Second, that he should have thought of this months ago to help Dimitri rest. He’d barely lasted longer than the child sprawled on top of him, lulled into a peaceful slumber like the ones Sylvain remembered from before the Tragedy.

Third, and most importantly, that happiness, the unattainable life goal meant for better people than him, felt like a child and his king tucked safely against his chest.


End file.
